


Buns

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 00:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto wears leggings. Noctis likes.





	Buns

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Anybody else hungry?”

“I’m starving.”

“I could do with a light snack.”

“_Starving_. I could eat, like, an entire dualhorn. You in, Noct?”

When Prompto looks over his shoulder, Noctis’ head snaps up just in time. He gives a dazed, “Uh, yeah, sure,” even though he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. And he doesn’t care. But he must’ve made the right decision, because Prompto grins and looks forward again, which leaves Noctis free to promptly drop his gaze.

Gladiolus makes the executive decision: “Alright, let’s go to the food court next.”

Prompto chirps, “Woop!”

Noctis grunts something non-committal. The group takes a sudden right turn, and the next thing Noctis knows, they’re going up an elevator. He makes sure to stand at least three stairs down from Prompto. Then they’re on the second level and moving again, him tailing at the optimal distance. At one point, Prompto nearly runs into someone. He stops, backing up, then has to jog to catch up to Gladiolus, which has the cheeks of his round ass jiggling with each movement. Noctis follows at a brisk pace, eyes glued to the bouncing orbs in front of him. Prompto’s never dressed particularly conservative, but today he’s wearing the thinnest leggings Noctis has ever seen, and he can see _everything._ The plain black fabric is practically painted onto Prompto’s curves, stretched so taut across Prompto’s pert ass that the fabric’s clearly wearing thin, nearly sheer, two round peach circles pressing against the otherwise inky surface. It’s _amazing_.

“Noct.”

Noctis doesn’t answer. The voice was Ignis’, and Ignis doesn’t matter right now. Only Prompto. And Prompto’s glorious butt.

“_Noctis_.” A hand locks around Noctis’ arm, and then he’s being dragged to the side. He throws his advisor a glare, but as usual, it doesn’t work. Gladiolus and Prompto carry on for a bit until they realize they’ve lost their prince, and then they halt outside a book store and wait, looking back but just out of earshot. The busy mall bustles on around them.

Ignis tells him flatly, quietly, “You need to stop staring at Prompto’s ass.”

Noctis’ cheeks flare, but he stifles any other reaction. He counters, “I’m not.”

“Of course you are. We all are. But at least we’re trying to be subtle about it. The way you’re staring, there’s going to be fifty stories about it in tomorrow’s gossip column.” 

Noctis wrinkles his nose. Deep down, he knows that Ignis is right, but he feels compelled to insist, “No, there won’t.”

Ignis releases a long-suffering sigh, like Noctis does this all the time but is being particularly obtuse today. “Look, I understand, your best friend is beautiful, and he looks especially scrumptious in today’s barely-even-there outfit, but you’re a grown man and you need to control your urges. Keep your eyes above waist-level, please.”

Out of pure defiance, Noctis deflects, “So I should ogle Gladio’s pecs, instead?”

Ignis give Noctis a dead stare that chills him to the bone. After a long moment of enduring that, he finally mumbles, “Okay, I’ll stop.” He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to, but he’ll try.

Ignis says, “Good. And believe me, when we get home, I’ll be giving Prompto a talking to as well, because he’s traveling with his prince, which means propriety matters. He should know by now that you’re a hopeless case that can’t handle leggings.”

Noctis’ face turns impossibly redder. “Hey!”

Ignis is already retreating. He marches swiftly toward Prompto, and Noctis hurriedly falls in line, eyes darting to the plump side-view of Prompto’s perfect rear. When they resume walking, he stares _extra_ hard, trying to memorize every little detail, because now he knows he might never get such a mouth-watering vision again. Today’s his last hurrah. He needs to drown in this view. He doesn’t care if Ignis caught him.

When they reach the food court, Prompto looks back before Noctis can tear his eyes away, and Prompto must have caught him too, because for the rest of the day, Prompto’s hips have an extra swing to them that makes his cheeks twitch with each step: a divine spectacle to witness. For at least that one trip, Noctis is a happy man.


End file.
